Urban Legend: Red Riding Hood

An urban legend is a modern story of origin and with little or no supporting evidence of it being true that spreads in varying forces and often have a moral or life lesson. Many fairy tales that have been told throughout history that reflects situations and events that could occur in daily lives: events such as life lessons and experiences that impact your life forever. Many of the results due to choices one has made.

Red Riding Hood is an urban legend for many reasons and the story’s purpose to warn the reader.

(In the perspective of Red Riding Hood)

The good thing about this I guess is that I am here, breathing, alive. Have you ever felt dead? Not physically but as if your soul has been striped into a million little pieces. I sure have.

I am fifteen. I have been fifteen for three months as fifteen days. I was born on June 13th. Mom stayed home with me that day. I was rather surprised. She works a lot of the time, the economy being so bad and what not. I was excited to maybe go out to dinner or maybe a show. Maybe even without any lectures or stories of her childhood pertaining to making better choices.

So as I got up this morning, I scrambled over the mountain of dirty clothes to access my pile of neatly folded clothes on my dresser, curtsey of mother. I threw on some jeans, my Toms, a tee-shirt, and weirdly enough my red jacket that I have NEVER worn in my life. I have never been a fan of red, but that day I liked it. It fit me well too.

I walk down the stairs and mom is up. She was sitting at the counter next to a package lying on top of the counter. All I knew is that I had to probably deliver it to my grandmother.

“Nana has been sick you know,” mother said to me. “It should only take you under an hour so if you stay and chat with her a bit. I promise we will go do something when you get back!” I knew I couldn’t say no. Grandma was sick. And I love her. I would have maybe liked a “hey happy birthday” or something first to begin my day.

She gave me a hug and a kiss on the forehead. And I was off. I walked one block, then another, then the third. Being the clumsy person I am, I dropped the package on the ground behind me. Doing the obvious, I turned around and picked up the package but then suddenly startled by a tall middle-aged man two inches away from my nose.

“Dropped something? I don’t think you know me but I live around here,” he said. It didn’t seem too suspicious or creepy. Just a common man in the neighborhood. So I talked with him. He asked me questions like where I was going and all that. Defying the teachings of my wise mother, I shared that information with him. I didn’t think about it too much.

Randomly during the conversation, he pointed out something moving next to me and as soon as I looked down and back up again, he was gone. Weird I know. I didn’t think much of it and went on.

I arrived at my grandmother’s house ten minutes later and ,oddly enough, the door was open. I walked through noticing the lights were all off. No sounds. No commentary from my grandma’s soap operas. I walked into her room. And there appeared to be a person lying asleep in the bed. I moved closer, leaning my face to where the person who I thought my grandma was. She has really big hands, I thought to myself. And quite larger than my grandmother ever was. And has an aroma of old cigars and cheap wine.

Before I could even contemplate what was happening, the same guy jumped like a hungry wolf up from under the sheets and pinned me to the bed. In the corner of my eye I could see my grandma lying in the closet. Blood swarming into the carpet.

Now the details of what happened after that point are too painful to describe. All I know is that I was lucky to be alive. Physically alive. I just hope someone learns from this.

SYMBLOSIM AND MEANINGS:

Wolf: cunning, persuasive, smart; predator

RED RIDING HOOD: innocence, youth, beginning of womanhood, naive.

Mother: knowledge, wisdom, warns her daughter.

The color RED: rebellion, lust, virginity, desire, blood.

Why the protagonist really doesn’t have a name? Many things like this happen and no one knows about it. It represents those who have experienced something on the lines of abuse who are never mentioned.